


Little Talks

by nightimedreamer



Series: All there's left is a ghost of you [1]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Angst and Feels, Anxiety Attacks, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Nightmares, Phone Calls, Pre-Book 2: Wayward Son, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:35:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24362905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightimedreamer/pseuds/nightimedreamer
Summary: Simon spends some days alone at the flat, and Merlin knows how loneliness can play tricks even on the steadiest of minds.OR; Simon has nightmares constantly, but this time there's no one around to calm him down.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Series: All there's left is a ghost of you [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2027846
Comments: 18
Kudos: 80





	Little Talks

**Author's Note:**

> This is set between Carry On and Wayward Son, a few months after the epilogue. Also, it was inspired by the song "Little Talks", by Of Monsters and Men, because I love this band and this song gives me feels.  
> Big thanks to @adamarks for beta reading! 💕  
> That's it, I hope you enjoy!

**Simon**

I don't like walking around the empty flat. It's just a reminder of how alone I am, that there's no one else here making the noises I've been hearing all night. It's just me, and every single sound I make echoes through the rooms right back to me.

The flat feels much bigger like this. Not like an inhabited place, waiting for someone to come back and pick up clothes from the floor, dust off the shelves and do the dishes. It's wrong and lifeless, like a void. And I feel like the ghost haunting it, wandering and dragging noisy chains around in an effort to annoy the neighbors (perhaps even scare them). 

And to be honest, I _am_ making a lot of noise. It's way past two in the morning, and I'm so nervous that my tail keeps knocking things over, and my wings, flapping nervously. I don't know what to do.

I've been pacing around for nearly an hour, trying to calm down. I know I should call my therapist; it's the sensible thing to do when there's a panic attack coming your way, isn't it? Or I could talk to Penny. 

If she were _here._

But she isn't. She's out for a week of important lectures with her uni class—somewhere in Wales. I can't just go into her room and hide under her desk as she tries to talk some sense into my head. Fucking snakes, just hearing her _voice_ would probably help: the way she talks soothingly, steadily, like she's got a plan and she knows exactly how to make things better. 

I let myself fall down on our sofa, trying to concentrate enough to do the breathing exercises she taught me. 

Right now, though, it feels like my lungs are full of smoke, and I'm torn between coughing and drawing in a breath. (All in all, it's just like suffocating. Don't recommend the experience to anyone.) 

I can feel it as a dryness in the back of my sore throat, another scream rising. Something prickles in my eyes, tears welling up and about to roll down. I hold it back. 

All this just because of a fucking nightmare.

I jerked awake in my room, alone with the screams echoing in my head; some reminiscent of the dream, some coming from my own throat. I barely remember what it was about, just that there was a lot of screaming (they all sound the same, _always)._ That and… well. I guess it's not weird to dream about my own boyfriend. 

(Though it wasn't the kind of dream I would expect.)

But that part doesn't matter, I guess. 

This already happened often, but now the nightmares are getting more and more frequent. I'm quite used to them, actually. The problem right now is that I'm usually... Not alone when they come. 

Back at Watford, I'd scream myself awake in the middle of the night, thinking the sweat covering me was blood, just to turn around and find Baz snarling at me from the other side of the room, a pillow pressed to his face. _"Shut the fuck up and go to sleep, Snow."_

Baz. 

I wonder if I'd feel better if he were here. 

I can count on my fingers the times Baz has stayed over for the night. None of them were especially memorable—he was just too tired to go home after long hours of study. But at least, if he were here, he could hold my hand and we could... Well, maybe then we would... 

Talk? 

He isn't even in town. Baz went to Oxford some days ago to visit his family. 

I miss him more than I can admit. 

I mean, it's not like we never see each other. We do, constantly, but I do miss sharing a room with him. I thought I wouldn't, after doing it for eight years, but I do. 

I miss the sound of his breathing and the little noises he makes when he's asleep. I miss waking up and seeing him first thing in the morning, dark hair disheveled and eyes puffy with sleep. Baz like no one else ever sees him. Only I do _—did._ I didn't realise then, what that meant to me. 

I get up and start walking around again, looking for my phone. I tug at my curls absentmindedly (my hair is too long; I should've gotten a haircut days ago), and I keep running into walls. (I'm still not entirely convinced that I'm a corporeal being.)

Shit, the flat is _really_ a mess. I should clean it up before Penny gets home in a few days. (And I should probably take a shower. Maybe a cold one would help.) 

Finally, I find my phone thrown under the sofa. I sit there for a bit, staring at my reflection on the dark screen. I look... _Off_. 

Which makes sense, because I _feel_ off. 

Not like going off—not losing control and exploding. Just... Wrong, somehow. 

It's like when you spend too much time sitting on the same position and your body goes stiff. I want to stretch, but I can't. I straighten my spine, but the joints don't crack. 

Some days I wake up feeling like this, and then there isn't much I can do. I skip classes and stay home. Usually, I don't even bother getting dressed, just slouch on the sofa in my pyjama bottoms. Watching TV, but not really _seeing_ anything. 

I shake my head, trying to concentrate. It's 3:44 am. There's no chance Penny will be up, and I don't want to wake her just because I had a nightmare. 

_I don't know what to do._

I get up and start pacing again. I turn the telly on and put on a random program, just to have some background noise. 

I keep looking at my phone. I type a number. To know what it feels like—what it looks like on the screen. 

A name pops up, and I stare at it for a minute. 

I press call.

I realise too late what a terrible idea this is, and end the call before it rings twice. But my hands are clumsy and my heart is racing, so I end up dropping my phone in my rush to hang up. 

Shit. I practically stride out of the living room, as if getting away from my phone can undo this. _Shit_. I hope I didn't wake him up. 

_It's three in the morning, Snow, for Crowley's sake. What the hell can't wait until tomorrow?_

I go into the dark kitchen, not bothering to turn the lights on, and grab a cup of water. I drink slowly, trying to even my breathing. Maybe I could make tea, that would help. 

I'm looking through the cabinets when I hear my phone ringing. 

I run back to the living room, swearing, and almost step on it. It's still on the floor, of course, right where I left the damn thing. 

And now it's ringing. 

I pick it up, and the brightness of the screen blinds me for a moment. 

Baz's name blinks back at me.

I feel a knot forming in my throat. _Why_ am I doing this? He was probably sleeping. I should answer and say that I called by accident and leave him alone. Or maybe I shouldn't even— 

My phone stops ringing. _Lost call._ I grit my teeth and drop it on the sofa, then head back to the kitchen. 

I'm on the doorway when it starts ringing again. 

This time, I shove all my doubts aside and hit answer. 

_"Snow?"_ Baz's voice sounds thick with sleep. Fuck, I really did wake him up.

"Hey, so, uhhh..." I should've thought of something to say before answering. "Sorry, did I wake you up?" 

He scoffs. _"Of course you didn't, Snow. It's three in the morning; why would I be asleep?"_

"Okay, got it, I'm sorry." I hang up, my face hot and my eyes wet. 

The phone rings again before I can even put it down. 

_"Could you please stop doing this?"_ Baz asks, his voice softer. _"I'm sorry, Simon. I shouldn't have said that. What happened?"_

"Uh, nothing," I say, swallowing past the lump in my throat. "I just... This is stupid, Baz. I know it is. I didn't want to wake you because of it. I just..." I trail off. 

_"You just...? Use your words, Snow."_

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I can practically see his face; Baz always makes the same expression when he says that. 

"I had a nightmare, okay? That's all. It's not an emergency." 

Silence. I wait, then pull the phone away to check if he's hung up. But he hasn't, and his voice comes back a moment later: 

_"What about?"_

"I... Don't remember exactly," I say, feeling more and more like an idiot. "There was screaming. Blood. I think you were there, actually." 

_"Me?"_ He sounds surprised. _"What happened to me?"_

"I can't remember." 

_"Snow, in case I died, I need to know if you wept over my corpse."_

"I literally woke up having a panic attack, Baz. What do you think?" I shake my head, then remember he can't see me. _Ugh_. He goes silent for another moment, so I speak again. "But nothing happened to you, really. I don't think so." 

He just hums in response. I hum back. _Merlin, we're shit at this._ It would be so much easier if I could just kiss him. Or hold his hand. Or just sit next to him and drink tea together. 

Anything is easier than talking, but some things haven't been so easy lately. Like the kissing. We don't do that so frequently anymore. I don't understand what changed. 

Before, kissing Baz felt easy, like breathing. Now, while kissing him, I can never forget how I'm not breathing. It feels a little claustrophobic, actually. (But it's still easier than talking.) 

_"What, then?"_ He asks now, interrupting my train of thought. _"Snow, what are you doing?"_

"I'm just thinking." I smile a little when he snorts. 

_"Unbelievable. You don't think."_

"I know, but I am now." 

_"Okay, right. So, what was I doing there, if this wasn't the fun kind of dream?"_

"I—we... I think we were just talking, actually." I sit down on the sofa, my wings closing around me a bit. "But like, not really talking. It was more like what we did at Watford." 

_"You mean all the fighting?"_ He asks.

"Uh, sort of?" 

_"...Did I say something, Snow?"_

_(Why are you always so fucking useless?)_

"No. Why?" 

_"...Simon."_

_(The worst Chosen One who's ever been chosen. So why would_ I _choose you?)_

"I can't remember." 

_"Simon, I—"_ he sighs, and I wonder if his throat is tight like mine or if he's just getting impatient. (I would too, I think, being woken up at this time and then having to put up with my half talk, all for nothing.) 

_(You're such a burden, Simon Snow.)_

"It's okay, Baz. It's nothing." 

_"Clearly it's something, Snow."_

"It was just…" I bite my lip. How do I tell Baz he was leaving me? Penny always says that saying things aloud make them more real. After all, magic is made of words. "It was like we were fighting, okay? That's all. You said some rude things, and that's it. It wasn't even the worst part." 

He goes silent for a minute before speaking again. _"Simon, I'm… sorry. You should know that I didn't mean any of those things."_

"Oh." I can't muster much more. I want to say that I did know, of course, but thinking about it now, that's quite not true. 

(Sometimes I can't help but think Baz was right all along. Maybe that's why part of me can still hear his voice, saying those things.) 

_"Whatever. I'm a perfect git, remember? You shouldn't be listening to me."_ The lightness in his voice sounds forced, artificial. 

"Okay," I breathe. "So, uhm. That was all. Sorry for waking you up."

 _"It's fine,"_ he says, and I hear rustling on the background. _"It's almost time I get up anyway. You beat my alarm by only ten minutes."_

"What? Why?" I ask, frowning. 

_"I was planning on making it a surprise and waking you up with kisses but…"_ he trails off, then clears his throat. _"I decided to go back a day earlier. My train departs in forty minutes."_

"Ah," I say, surprised, feeling a smile tugging at my lips. "So you're… cool. Yeah, cool, Baz." 

He's coming home. 

He's coming _back,_ not leaving. 

_"Yeah,"_ he says, and I have the vague feeling he's nodding, even though I can't see him. _"Anyway, I should get going. I was planning on dropping by your flat, but I guess it's better if I go to mine first."_

"Uh," I say, my face falling a little. "I mean, yeah, okay. Alright. That makes sense." 

_"... Yeah,"_ he agrees. _"Okay, Snow?"_

"Fine! Yeah, of course. So, uh. See you in a bit?" 

_"Right."_ He says, then sighs. _"You should try to get some more sleep, love. I'll be there just as you wake up."_

I try to _say yes, of course,_ but the answer gets stuck in my throat, so I just nod. Then I grunt at myself, because I keep forgetting he can't see me. My heart pounds in my ears and my face is hot. 

Finally, I blurt a quick _"see you"_ and hang up. 

I clutch the phone, only now realising how my hands are sweating. I sigh and get up again. 

I don't feel like trying to sleep again. I'm not sure if I can. I go back to the kitchen and sit down at the table. 

_Tea_. That's what I was doing. I could make some tea and grab something to eat, and then wait for Baz and make some tea for him when he gets home.

Because he's coming, and I'll wait for him. 

_I'll wait,_ I tell myself.

But I guess there's no problem in waiting with my head down, so I rest my head over my crossed arms and close my eyes. 

I'll see him in a bit.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, and sorry if this hurt.  
> If you're interested in knowing more about my writing and my other fics, come talk to me on [Tumblr!](https://nightimedreamersworld.tumblr.com/)


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